The Rodrigues Pregnancy. Anne Mather

paler, her eyes pink-rimmed and a visible redness around her mouth.

      She’d been sick. That much was obvious to him. Dammit, he hadn’t realised Luis’s accident would upset her so much. He straightened away from the wall where he’d been lounging and regarded her with some concern. ‘Are you all right?’

      Clearly, she wasn’t, but she made a brave effort to pretend she was. ‘It must have been something I ate,’ she said, making no attempt to disguise what had happened. ‘And seeing Luis.’ She rubbed her lips again with the tissue she’d brought out of the rest room with her. ‘I suppose I didn’t expect all that bracing around his neck.’

      ‘I’m told they have to immobilise the neck to prevent further injury,’ said Christian gently. ‘It’s just a cervical collar. As I told you, his spine isn’t injured.’

      ‘All the same—’

      ‘Olivia, he’s not paralysed. He feels bad, I grant you. I dare say his hip isn’t very comfortable right now. But he will get better.’ He grimaced. ‘The doctors in San Francisco were very thorough. They seemed to think he’d been very lucky.’

      Olivia bit her lip. ‘He says he doesn’t have a lot of pain,’ she murmured and Christian nodded.

      ‘And he hasn’t needed any surgery at all.’

      ‘Any surgery?’

      She was staring at him with wide eyes and Christian cursed himself for mentioning it. ‘There can be internal injuries after a car crash,’ he told her unwillingly. ‘But Luis has no internal bleeding at all.’

      ‘Thank God.’

      ‘Indeed. A few weeks’ rest and he’ll be back on his feet, as good as new.’

      ‘You think so?’

      Christian nodded. ‘I do.’

      She shook her head. ‘Dear God, what if—?’

      ‘Olivia, we can all torture ourselves with “what-ifs”,’ he declared flatly. ‘What if he hadn’t been driving so fast? What if he hadn’t been on that particular stretch of highway at all? He did, he was, and this has happened. It’s up to us to make it as easy as possible for him to get over it. Right?’

      She sniffed and then said stiffly, ‘Us?’

      ‘Yeah.’ Christian glanced back into the cafeteria. ‘Look, why don’t we go and sit down again?’

      ‘Not in there.’ Her response was urgent, and she turned her face away from the restaurant. ‘I—perhaps we should go back upstairs. Luis may be back from his examination by now.’

      ‘And he may not,’ retorted Christian shortly.

      ‘Come on, Olivia. We’ve got to talk about this so it might as well be now.’ He chewed on his lip for a moment, and then added, ‘Why don’t we go and find a lounge? There are bound to be waiting rooms for visitors somewhere.’

      She hesitated for a moment and he thought she was going to balk again, but she didn’t. ‘All right,’ she agreed at last. ‘You can tell me how the accident happened, and how you came to be the one they got in touch with.’

      Christian’s mouth flattened. Yeah, right, he thought grimly. That was the most important thing as far as she was concerned. What had happened months before the accident and how they were going to deal with that in the future was not in question. She was only talking to him at all because she really didn’t have a choice.

      They took the stairs instead of using the elevator. Evidently, Olivia had no desire to be confined in an airless cubicle where the smell of antiseptic and medication were all-pervading. In her present state, she would have probably preferred to walk outdoors, but that wasn’t possible. Even without the rain, the streets beyond the parking lot that surrounded the hospital wouldn’t offer them the privacy they sought.

      They found a visitors’ lounge on the second floor, just down the corridor from Luis’s room. To Christian’s relief, it was empty, though he guessed Olivia didn’t share his enthusiasm as she surveyed the deserted chairs and sofas.

      But there was a coffee machine in one corner and Christian got them both plastic cups of the steaming beverage before he sat down. Olivia, he saw, had chosen an armchair and he took the sofa opposite. He deposited the cups on the table nearby before spreading his legs and letting his hands hang loosely between his thighs.

      He couldn’t help but notice that she avoided looking at him. But she gave him a brief nod of thanks for the coffee before concentrating on the contents of the cup. With it cradled between her palms, she was successfully shutting him off from whatever thoughts she was entertaining. He guessed she wasn’t only thinking about her stepson.

      But he couldn’t ask her that now. ‘Okay,’ he said instead, forcing her to listen to him. ‘The first thing we have to decide is where Luis is going to convalesce when he leaves the hospital.’

      That got her attention. The pinkness had left her lids now and long, silvery-grey eyes set between thick curling lashes focussed on his face. ‘Where he’s going to convalesce?’ she echoed. ‘Isn’t that a little premature? We still don’t know how long he’s going to be in the hospital.’

      ‘Not long,’ said Christian, taking a mouthful of his own coffee. He found it palatable, if a little weak.

      ‘It’s my experience that patients who are not in need of any surgery are discharged fairly quickly. They’re encouraged to continue their recovery at home.’

      ‘At home?’ Once again she repeated his words.

      ‘But—Luis’s apartment is at Berkeley. There’s no one to care for him there.’

      ‘I know that.’ Christian put down his cup and regarded her intently. ‘How would you feel about opening up the house in Bal Harbour and caring for him there? After all, it was Luis’s home as well until he left for the west coast. I know you chose to leave Miami, but I don’t suppose that’s written in stone.’